


Vampire's Will Never Hurt You But Their Enemy's Might

by GreetingsFromThePunderworld, my_chemical_kermit



Category: Fall Out Boy, Halsey (Musician), Melanie Martinez - Fandom, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bottom Frank, Drugs, Gun Violence, Human Frank, M/M, Prostitution, Rich Gerard Way, Smut, Vampire Gerard Way, Vampires, Witchcraft, Zombies, hooker frank, mafia, rival gangs, top gerard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-10-17 20:38:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10601802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreetingsFromThePunderworld/pseuds/GreetingsFromThePunderworld, https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_chemical_kermit/pseuds/my_chemical_kermit
Summary: The ideal way to meet someone is not immediately after you've finished giving a blowjob for money.Especially when the person you've just met is an attractive stranger who's yelling at an automatic soap dispenser that does not work for them because they're a 2753-year-old emissary that has been crawling the earth shrouded in darkness.But nothing in Frank's life is ideal.**On indefinite hiatus**





	1. this mirror is big enough for the both of us because one of us doesn't show up in it

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
> This is basically a kind of teaser for this fic cause I couldn't wait any longer to publish this. After the fic we are working on, Bus Boys, is finished this will be updated on an attempted weekly basis.  
> Hope you guys enjoy this because I can't wait to write more  
> ~ Kermit

Frank spat the gruesome substance out of his mouth. The vile taste still lingered on his teeth. He stood up off of his knees and held out his expectant hand.

 

"How much." Asked the older man, who sported an unshaven beard- that's it.

 

"Forty," Frank said shortly, the man quickly withdrew his inexpensive wallet from his coat that was draped over the tacky hotel chair. The man rifled through the folds in the wallet and handed Frank two twenties and a five.

 

Frank, did not need to count the money, he just watched as the man pulled on his work pants and pulled up his zipper. It was the right amount, plus an extra five as a tip, this was going to be a good customer. Frank laced his voice with all the seductivity he could. "Call this number if you ever want me again." Frank said, quickly scribbling the number to his 'pimp' down.

 

Franks so-called 'pimp' in reality was just a woman everyone only knew as Joanne. She didn't ask for much from Frank, she didn't need much, she had too many girls working for her and wasn't willing to lose her only male hooker.

 

"Ask for Sugar." He added.

 

The man nodded and buttoned up his wrinkled shirt. "See you soon, Sugar." Franks skin crawled.

 

Frank let his client leave first. He grabbed his large, tan and overstated fur coat from the closet and slipped it on over his aching shoulders. He nearly drowned in the fur every time he wore it, but he loved it nonetheless. He grabbed his black duffle bag from the luggage rack before quickly walking out of the skeazy motel room, not the worst he'd ever been in though. Not by far.

 

Frank was enveloped in the icy city air as he stepped out from the doors of the lobby. He knew this area fairly well and found a bathroom almost immediately. He could not wait too clean off the remaining sweat and other filth clean. He was done for tonight, he could not bare touching another dick belonging to a middle-aged man or spend another minute in a hotel room that cost less than a dinner for a family of four.

 

Well, that is what Frank told himself anyway before he walked into the bathroom of the gas station on the corner of the street.

 

A figure was in the corner of the bathroom, frantically waving at one of the motion-sensitive soap dispensers, he was obviously struggling with the task of washing his hands. Not seeming to have noticed that Frank had entered the bathroom, he began cursing at the machine under his breath.

 

"Are you okay there?" Frank asked the taller man, who had now resorted to using violence to frighten the machine into submission. "I don't think hitting it is going to make it bend to your will."

 

The man turned around, and God be damned if this guy wasn't the exception as to what he'd just told himself before coming in the bathroom. Frank all but fell to his knees and readily dropped his jaw.

 

He had dark shoulder length hair that framed an unnaturally pale face with an upturned nose. He had nice eyebrows like really good eyebrows, like got them professionally done. At this angle, his jawline looked like a finely cut diamond.

 

Frank knew this dude wasn't straight. Frank usually always knew, he had some sort of gaydar built into him. He could sense a married closeted gay from miles away.

 

Considering he was a hooker, it was a very useful skill to have picked up on the ride.

 

The guy looked at him, he rakes his eyes from Franks' feet up to his eyes, they paused on his extravagant coat before settling on his face. "I can never get these damn things to work." He finally said with a huff. He leaned against the dirty bathroom wall. "Mind giving me a hand, pretty?" He asked.

 

Frank smirked a little himself, compliments in his line of work were often along the lines of "You suck dick good." He walked over and waved a hand in front of the machine, it immediately worked and the guy stuck out his hands to let a drop of soap fall on them.

 

At least he's hygienic Frank thought. All though this was common hygiene, compared to some of his other customers he was an angel covered in antibacterial white descending from heaven- a very clean angel.

 

"Thanks." He said and turned the tap water on and proceeded merrily to scrub his hands together.

 

"Oh." Frank hissed and stumbled backward. "Oh fuckity fuck no." He pressed his back up against the wall, this person- thing didn't have a reflection. The mirror was reflected the room perfectly it just seemed to skip over the man, that was very not normal.

 

"There's a urinal right there if you're going to piss yourself." The taller man said.

 

In all of Franks time on the streets, this was by far not the strangest thing he had encountered. So Frank tried his best to compose himself, he cleared his throat. His voice came out hoarse at first but got it on the second try, "You're going to need help with that too?" Frank pointed to the motion sensor activated paper towel dispensers.

 

He shot Frank a sideways glance and said slowly, "If you wouldn't mind."

 

Whether it was from spending an hour on his knees prior or the strangers lack reflection, Franks' legs were like jelly walking over to the paper towels. Frank procured a decent amount of tissue. "Frank." He offered his name and the paper towels.

 

"Gerard." He said as he slowly took them from Franks' hands and dried his own.

 

"So does that," Frank motioned towards the dispenser, "mean you can't going into banks?"

 

Gerard stared blankly.

 

"Because of the automatic doors." Frank elaborated.

 

"No, I got that." Gerard crumpled up the paper towels. "Are you an idiot?" He flourished.

 

"I don't think so," Frank answered.

 

"Well, I fucking do." Gerard looked so puzzled- and confused, dumbfounded and anything else that had a similar meaning.

 

"Something wrong?" Frank asked.

 

Gerard shook his head and grunted. He turned to leave the bathroom, and that was that.

 

Frank felt every muscle in his body, every bone and organ ache to follow Gerard. But the sickly feeling that had evaporated in his presence was back- tenfold.

 

"Ew ew ew." Frank chanted as he slipped off the ginormous coat. Frank locked the bathroom door and wet some rough paper towels to begin cleaning what he could off of himself. He would never get used to the feeling.

 

Frank discarded the last of the paper towels into the trash bin and slung his coat over his shoulders, letting it cascade down his sides.

 

Upon leaving the gas station Frank realized he had no way home, usually, he called a taxi or walked, but he was on the opposite side of town.

 

Frank mentally recalled how much money he had collected. He really did not intend to spend it on an overpriced Uber- walking it is. It's not like he couldn't use the exercise.

 

The moon had traveled three-fourths of the way across the sky. Frank was the only one on the streets, unsurprisingly as it was three in the morning.

 

Franks shoes tapping against the sidewalk suddenly wasn't the only noise on the street.

 

Frank halted and turned to face the road. A very expensive car pulled up next to him.

 

This could be a few things- Joanne got a new ride, a drug dealer looking to sell or a new client looking for some love.

 

Frank hoped it was the latter, he had rehearsed the 'here's my number, call me to schedule an appointment' speech until he could write it upside down and backward.

 

Frank hesitantly approached the car, his back rigid and limbs stiff. The tinted window slowly descended and Frank tightened his grip on his bag.

 

Frank was met by a pair of huge sunglasses and a smirk. The man's lips pursed together before he spoke. "Need a lift?"

 

Without better judgment Frank nodded, the long strands of fur on his coat swayed from the movement.

 

"Hop in, little mouse." Gerard invited from behind his glasses. The car doors unlocked, Frank had to leap back when the doors opened upwards, like a butterfly stretching its wings.

 

This guy was insane, Frank did not doubt that this car was purchased by money attained in illegal ways- but thinking of the money in his bag Frank could not be one to talk.

 

"Where too?" Gerard asked, debauched as Frank slid into the sleek car.

 

Frank was swimming in a surreal haze of awe. "Near the Denny's off Main." Frank quickly peered into the rearview mirror, again a certain thing was disturbingly lacking from the image.

 

Gerard nodded and accelerated, speeding down the empty road.

 

Gerard seemed to be paying very little attention to the road, he was more focused on Frank.

 

"I'm not that interesting. You can stop staring." Frank commented.

 

"Your obnoxious coat begs to differ." Gerard snorted and raised the volume on the radio that had softly been listing off commercial ads.

 

Frank really hoped he wouldn't end up in little pieces in trash bags by the night's end- although twenty-four wasn't too bad of a time to die.

 

The car purred quietly as it halted at a stop sign. At least he abides by traffic laws. Frank still couldn't shake the mirror thing or why he even offered to give him a ride or why he called him a mouse.

 

"Hold up a second. Do I look like a mouse to you." Frank blurted out suddenly turning in the smooth leather seats.

 

Gerard peered over his shades. "Yeah. You're small. Like a mouse."

 

"Calm down tiger, you don't see me offending your masculinity." Frank huffed.

 

Gerard snorted again and quietly said, "I'm hardly a tiger."

 

Frank hummed, what a weird response. He ran his hand over the seat- it would probably be the most expensive thing he will ever touch in this life.

 

Gerard pulled his car up to the curb in front of the Denny's.

 

"Thanks, Mr. Vampire dude- or whatever you are," Frank muttered,

 

Gerard's hazel eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Frank didn't stay long enough, quickly grabbing his bag and jumping out of the car, coat fur and hair blowing in the light wind.

 

Frank walked past the Denny's, sensing eyes on him he buzzed himself into the large apartment building. The lobby was shit. The century-old furniture failed to match or complement the cheapass art or carpet. The lighting was dim, thankfully, so you couldn't get the full effect of how shit it really was.

 

Frank did not linger he took the elevator up to the 8th floor. It was more of a lift, like the ones they have at construction sites. The gears grinded and the chords squealed throughout all hours of the night and day.

 

Frank waited for the doors open and prayed he didn't have to pry them apart again. He walked on the floral carpet, down the hypnotizing yellow striped halls to his apartment, 8B. The door stuck, with a weighted shove it swung open.

 

"Hey Mikes, I'm back," Frank called into the kitchen as he dumped his fur coat onto the wooden coatrack, it was here when they bought the apartment. He set his bag on the chair- there was a spring popping out of the seat.

 

Mikey came bustling in and sighed, Mikey didn't like the mess, which was unfortunate as Frank was the messiest mother fucker, in almost every context except the mother fucking part- he didn't do chicks.

 

"You make much tonight?" Mikey asked as he took Frank's bag from the chair.

 

"'Bout a hundred and sixty including tips," Frank replied, now scouring the cupboards for anything edible. He arose successful with a cup o' noodles and a stained pot. Frank filled it with tap water, today was a good day- night, the water wasn't brown and the elevator was working. Frank set the pot on the stove to boil.

 

"You wanna watch something?" Mikey asked the two had a tradition of binge-watching shows together.

 

"Sure." Replied Frank, pouring the hot water into the plastic cup, adding the flavor packet, stirring and then following his roommate of a year and a half to the living room, or the sofa, the kitchenette and living room had nothing separating them aside from the change of fake tile to scratched wood floor.

 

Mikey was already living here when Frank had moved in, Frank had seen a yellow flyer taped to a telephone pole offering a shared apartment for dirt cheap money. Frank had jumped upon the opportunity and after meeting Mikey everything was pretty much set in stone.

 

The apartment was surprisingly nice considering the cheap price and building it was in. Frank imagined it was only because Mikey replaced most of the furniture and basically refurnished the whole place.

 

Frank assumed Mikey wasn't poor but didn't have the slightest inkling as to why he lived here.

 

If Frank had the chance he would a hundred percent be living in the lap of luxury, a rich loving hot husband who would take care of him, or perhaps even a loving attractive husband who made sure he never ended up working on the streets again would be nearly as nice.

 

Nearly.

 

Frank didn't mind the fact that was just a fantasy, people like him didn't get lives like that.

 

Frank settled into the sofa and Mikey turned on Netflix that Frank definitely didn't pay for.

 

For the moment, all was good, no one who wanted Frank to suck their dick out of lust, just a roommate, Heisenberg, and Pinkman. Maybe a cockroach too.


	2. i'm in love with the risk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be a while again for the next chapter
> 
>  
> 
> The title is inspired by a song by queens of the stone age called sick sick sick. So yeh.

Frank burrowed deeper into his stiff sheets. He could hear the faint shuffling of his roommates feet in the adjacent room, it was easy to tune out and Frank was used to it. He didn't know if that boy ever slept.

 

The whole encounter with Gerard was a load of horseshit.

 

Who the hell used a gas station bathroom at three am, aside from prostitutes. That guy, Gerard did not look like a prostitute- his car alone told him that. Better yet who the hell doesn't show up in a mirror? Fucking vampires, that's who.

 

Of course Frank knew deep down that was impossible, probably a hallucination from his shit sleep schedule. But Frank- he was a strong believer in the supernatural and he was convinced his first encounter with the supernatural was in a gas station bathroom at ass o'clock in the morning. His idea was spurred on by the countless horror films he had visually inhaled as a teenager.

 

Both his and a vampires sleep schedule were similar, if the myth was indeed true that a vampire can't go into the sunlight. Frank was usually up all night working and slept when he could in the morning or early afternoon. Like a vampire, that included a certain probably vampire that can't operate motion dispensers and offered rides in their shit expensive cars.

 

Weird. Frank let his mind drift from the vampire dude he would never see again to Joanna, he would have to get her money to her by the end of the week.

 

Her cut was only a fraction of what he had earned, and in return Frank received protection and a lot more customers to serve. Joanna was nice- when you got her money to her on time that is.

 

What Frank made before joining her was barely enough to buy a frozen box dinner daily. Frank was not worried about her though, he was on her good side, always had been. Frank thinks she has a soft spot for him.

 

He eventually fell asleep on his less than stellar mattress, in his rundown apartment with his elusive roommate, in a point five star apartment building with his hellish job on the back of his mind and he was oh so grateful for it all.

 

OvvO

 

"Morning." a voice said. Frank's roommate was perched on the counter, cup of steaming coffee in his hand as Frank appeared from the hallway that led into the worn kitchenette.

 

The eggshell paint on the cupboards was peeling and every other tile had a crack in it. The warped counter had various items littered across the surface, an empty vodka bottle, a lighter, an empty pack of camels.

 

"Morning, Mikey." Frank mumbled whilst rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Any left in the pot?"

 

Mikey nodded and noisily sipped his coffee and swung his feet back and forth letting his heels tap against the cupboards.

 

Before Frank could finish making the coffee Mikey had disappeared into his room or out into the hallway.

 

It was strange, Frank barely knew anything about the guy, he was just quiet and nice, they didn't do much talking- there never was any opportunities to get to know each other. Thankfully the threat of Mikey pulling off Franks fingernails in his sleep had never shown to be present.

 

Mikey had the same sleep schedule as Frank, as well as that of a vampire. He was here in the apartment all day and when the sun set he vanished.

 

Things were working out well between the two ever since Frank had moved in. Their personalities didn't clash and they had similar interests and tastes, good qualities to have when it comes to awkward meals. It led to easy light conversation. Frank would not mind getting to know the guy a little more.

 

Gerard had been pushed to the rear of Franks mind over the course of the next few weeks. The odd recollection would bring it back to the front but was ultimately completely forgotten-

 

Until one night, when Frank dressed in his tightest skinny jeans and nappy fur coat he noticed an exasperated figure scuffing his shoes in front of an automatic door.

 

"I will throw a brick through a fucking window." The man muttered.

 

Frank spoke up with a childlike glee, "need any help?" He chirped.

 

Gerard spun around, the black trench coat draped around his shoulders billowed out around him. He narrowed his eyebrows as Frank approached.

 

Before Frank knew what had happened he was being dragged into an alleyway, he felt a tight grip around his throat and his back was pressed up against the brick exterior of the store.

 

Dim lighting from the street lamps sent shadows cascading over Gerard's contorted features.

 

Frank clawed at the hand around his throat and choked on the pressure. Gerard pressed his throat farther against the wall, Frank could feel his coat clinging to the wall.

 

"You're not going to fucking tell anyone about me." Gerard hissed.

 

Frank eyes began to tear up, he could feel his lips beginning to prickle from the pooling blood. Frank tried to nod. His mind was whirring, what the fuck was he talking about?

 

Gerard caught on that he was going to strangle Frank and released his grip.

 

Frank sputtered and choked rubbing at his neck. "Shit." He wheezed.

 

Gerard took a faulty step back. "Sorry. Just-" Frank held up a hand to silence Gerard.

 

He wasn't phased by it. "Look, you can't tell anyone. I'm really sorry- I kind of just lost it I guess." He rambled. It suddenly clicked in Franks head.

 

Oh. Did he think Frank was going to go to the police or some shit. That clearly was not and never would be an option.

 

"Who am I fucking going to tell what now, who'd even believe me?" Frank rasped airily.

 

"Nobody- this." Gerard gestured to himself as if that would clarify everything to Frank.

 

"Look," Frank said doubtfully. "I think you've been huffing something you really shouldn't have been..."

 

Gerard stared incredulously twisting his gloved hands together. "Wait. So you don't think I'm- you don't know that- was it a joke?" Frank assumed that was a question.

 

"What the vampire thing? Look I don't know what you think I think or know but I know you should get some sleep or something." Frank said still gasping and rubbing at his throat. Frank knew it was the time to lie his ass off if he wanted all his bones to remain unbroken.

 

"Well shit." Gerard groaned running a hand across his face and then pressing against his temple. "That was weird. I feel like I should make it up to you. Walk with me?" Gerard asked.

 

And with some brainless entrancement induced reasoning, Frank followed Gerard into the store triggering the automatic doors for them to walk through.

 

As if the exchange that had happened in the dark alley moments ago never happened Gerard sang, "I'm going to cook something for you. You're Italian, no?" He asked.

 

Frank blanked. Was he proposing dinner? And was Frank going to accept? Probably.

 

It's not as if Frank had a death wish- hanging around a probably two thousand year old emissary that may or may not be able to read his mind, based on any and all movies Frank had seen. He was just curious and bored- these two things have been the undoing of many people and possibly now Frank.

 

He followed Gerard into the store. Gerard procured a squeaky shopping cart that rattled when it was pushed.

 

The mundaneness of shopping made Frank question Gerard's vampirity. "First stop: coffee." Gerard declared.

 

Frank did not really know what to say or do, he hadn't planned that far so he just trailed Gerard, taking note of the things he bought and avoided.

 

"No." Frank said.

 

Gerard grinned and continued down the aisle taking a frozen chicken from the shelf, sniffing it, placing it back and then moving on to the next frozen bird parts wrapped in plastic, the pile of various types of meat kept piling up.

 

"That's a lot of meat," Frank voiced as he watched Gerard push the cart on past the gruesome display of bloody meat.

 

Gerard hummed, "I don't go out much, so I stoke pile, sorry if this is disturbing for a vegetarian such as yourself," he said, nonchalantly

 

Frank tried not to make his surprise too apparent. "It's cool." He practically squeaked, "Most of my family eat meat. I'm not going to ask how you knew that right now."

 

Frank's brain was whirring, trying to figure out the reason behind all this, according to all the movies, Gerard would need to eat meat to help his need for blood, or something, but how did he know Frank was Italian, or vegetarian?

 

Frank decided to question Gerard on this when they weren't in public.

 

"So do you want pasta?" Gerard asked, walking over to look at the various kinds, intriguing.

 

Frank leaned over the bar of the shopping cart, pushing it along over to Gerard.

 

"Sure, but why are you doing this yourself, do you not have some chef at home, I mean you're are rich, right? With your big fancy car and clothes?" Frank questioned, curiousity burning.

 

Gerard smiled, "I see why you'd think that but I'd but I like to be independent to some extent."

 

Frank frowned. "No fancy chef?" He asked.

 

"Oh no there is a fancy chef, I just like to shop myself. Although Ryan orders stuff in to make meals. These are things for myself." Gerard laughed, throwing some of the weird pasta that looked like little bow ties into the cart. "That reminds me, do they have poison glands of dart frogs here. I suppose they wouldn't, come on." He said, waving Frank along.

 

Frank brushed off the freaky Harry Potter shit. "So why are you cooking something for me if you've got someone who could do it for you?" Frank pushed, wanting to learn more.

 

"That would be a little impersonal, it is me who feels bad for the little incident there, not my cook." Gerard said simply, Frank nodded in agreement at this ideology.

 

Frank pushed the cart, following Gerard. "What's it like then, living in the lap of luxury?" He asked, trailing behind.

 

Gerard snorted, "I wouldn't say luxury, it's a dangerous business what I do."

 

Frank looked incredulously at him, Gerard spotted the look. "No worse than your line of work I imagine, I just have more perks."

 

"You don't say." Snorted Frank, greatly annoyed at the vampires lack of appreciation.

 

"I was poor once but I guess that was a long time ago. Those memories are old and long forgotten." Gerard said as with a flick of his hand he threw a few packets of Oreos in the cart. What the fuck was this guys diet.

 

Frank could only imagine Gerard's real age but hey maybe this meant Frank was into older men.

 

Frank chuckled at his own imagination, Gerard shot him a look which silenced him immediately. Did that mean he could read minds?

 

Frank didn't see the hidden smirk when Gerard looked away.

 

"I think I'm about done here." Gerard stated flatly as he threw some final random spices in the cart.

 

The two paid some scrawny teen, who looked sleep deprived and only a little bit high, but even he perked up when he saw the strange pair approach him. Frank in his extravagant fur coat and the laughing Gerard, who looked ready for murder, with a suspicious gun shaped lump in his pocket.

 

Gerard had selected a platinum credit card to pay, from the many cards in his wallet, along with quite a bit of money shoved in too, Frank gawked.

 

They walked out into the parking lot, Gerard clicked something on his key and the trunk of the car raised like a whale flipping its tail. Gerard threw his purchases in before walking over and opening the passenger side door, he gestured for Frank to get in, Frank smiled gratefully.

 

Gerard got in the other side and they drove off, Frank was going to restart the conversation but Gerard got to it before him.

 

"You lived around here long, Frankie?" Gerard asked as he drove, one of the few cars in motion.

 

"I lived in Italy till I was about ten,  speak it pretty well, then we moved to New Jersey and I moved here just over half a year ago." Frank said.

 

"Was it a struggle learning English? Since Italian is your mother tongue." Gerard asked.

 

"Not really, they teach languages from a very young age, my momma knew so she taught me and papa." Frank recalled, his Italian mannerisms showing through.

 

Gerard nodded. "Neat, I myself speak five languages, I've considered Italian, you'll have to teach me." He mused like it was no big whoop.

 

Frank nodded almost immediately. "Of course." Frank didn't speak for a moment. "What languages do you speak?"

 

"German, Spanish, Russian, English and Japanese." Gerard listed.

 

"Is there a reason for any of those or just for shits and giggles?" Frank asked

 

"I have business partners who are Russian, it seemed common courtesy, since they spoke English, to learn there language." Gerard said. "It also means we can talk in public."

 

Frank's mouth formed an O shape. "German because before world war II it was the second most spoken language here. Spanish because I lived there for many years and Japanese because goddamitt I love me some classy anime." He finished.

 

"I wish I had some cool life story to tell you, or some awesome reason behind speaking Italian." Frank said. "Anime really?"

 

"Hell yes. So not question my unadulterated adoration for Studio Gihbli. When you've been around as long as me you have to make life interesting." Gerard said. "Alright ou've heard enough about me, your turn now."

 

Frank groaned, his life was so uneventful. It would seem so boring to someone with God knows how many years alive.

 

"I'm really not interesting at all." Frank sighed. "We moved from Italy when I was ten, parents split when I was thirteen, had my typical teenage angst phase, moved here when I was 20 to get away."

 

"That is oversimplified. You surely have more memories than that." Gerard stated, "I'd love to know the backstory of this lovely sheep carcass around your neck."

 

Frank laughed, his coat did have a backstory. "If you cook well and uh don't suck my blood, then I'll reveal it's mysterious past, agreed?"

 

Gerard pretended to think for a moment. "Agreed, and perfect timing too as we're home."

 

Frank looked out the window at the house.

 

But this was no house, it looked like five houses stacked on top of each over, it looked like a better, classier, version of Frank's own home. The whole apartment building.

 

"Is this, is it all yours?" Frank asked.

 

Gerard nodded. "I know it's not much compared to some, but yes."

 

"Your job has more than a few perks, Jesus Christ I love it. I'm intimidated but I love it." Frank burst out, getting out of the car quickly to stare.

 

There were lights dotted all around in a paint spattered pattern. They weren't lights for rooms, they were literally embedded into castle-esque walls of the building.

 

Gerard got out of the other side of the car. "It is gorgeous isn't it, a little extra but I couldn't help myself."

 

Frank hummed in agreement.

 

"Shall we go in?" Gerard asked, offering a hand as if they had known each other for years already.

 

Frank took the hand and nodded. "Yes please." Frank shivered at the touch, he could feel the chill of Gerard's body through his leather gloves. Of course Gerard's body must be in some form of suspended animation.

 

There were shrubs perfectly cut into rounded rectangles, the driveway split off onto a smaller path that lead to the main entrance. Two white pillars stood proudly atop the steps, supporting the balcony overhang directly above the doorway.

 

The sidewalk was impossibly smooth under Franks feet, the steps leading up to the door were an ashen gray slate color.

 

"This is fucking crazy." Frank whispered running his hand across the wall of the porch.

 

"You think?" Gerard chuckled reaching for the polished doorknob that cost more than all of Franks possessions.

 

It was a miracle Frank didn't faint upon first glimpse of the interior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any ideas or recommendations for this fic we would love to hear them ! So comment them down below !!


	3. i just told you what i do for a living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of the coat and how Frank got affiliated- I think I love it more than the actually story...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of the story just go with it. Gerard is half Russian and Halsey and Melanie are in a semi-functional relationship. 
> 
> Also this is undoubtedly not how prostitution works so whoops ?

Frank gaped. If he thought the outside was magnificent then the interior was otherworldly. The entire house was so beautiful. For once he didn't have a single thing to say.

  
The first room had an impressive staircase in the middle, the kind you saw in movies, real million doar mansion shut. It split into two halves, doubly progressing to the second floor to either side of the house. Frank couldn't see past the crest of the stairs.

  
There was a visually deafening chandelier suspended above their heads. It wasn't an average crystal chandelier. Or even a white diamond one. This one was the physical embodiment of twilight. Reflective black onyx, sapphires, amethyst, topaz and probably a hundred other twinkling precious gemstones embedded into the soft metal the frame was wrought from.

  
The carpet beneath Frank's feet was shaggy, classy as hell. Even though he couldn't feel it, Frank knew barefoot it must feel like walking on clouds.

  
The furniture was lush, luxurious and clearly expensive. It was a subtle combination of 1920's and modern contemporary design that blended well.

  
God knows where Gerard got these things, or the money to pay for them.

  
Frank had been so consumed he hadnt noticed Gerard carrying the groceries, or the mousey haired boy that came bounding up to them.

  
"Gee, it's done, the brew for the sacrifi-" The boy stopped suddenly, staring at Frank. His round face was questioning but he don't voice his concerns too sharply. "Gerard, he's not who you said you'd get." He prompted, clearly annoyed. "We agreed to get the annoying one with the ginger beard."

  
Gerard sighed. "That's not what this guy is here for, Ryan, do you think he'd still be breathing if he were." He said pragmatically.

  
Ryan's mouth formed an O then his eye narrowed and lips pursed. "Well no, he couldn't be... Gerard is he a prostitute? I thought you said you weren't going to do that again." He harped.

  
Gerard groaned. "Sure, he is a prostitute but that's not why he's here either. He's here because I am in his debt."

  
"He owes me dinner." Frank perked up not particularly wanting to be ignored further.

  
Ryan flapped his arms frantically. "I haven't even started yet, Gerard I told you to text me when you wanted food."

  
"Ryan calm down. I'm to prepare dinner tonight, not you. Go make an herbal potion for your plants or whatever else you do in your spare time." Gerard said, trying to dismiss the distressed boy.

  
Ryan nodded. "Okay, but did you get the guy for tomorrow morning, that potion on the other hand is ready."

  
"I did Ryan, I know to stay on top of things. I arranged that before I found myself in debt to an unduly attractive prostitute." Gerard said bluntly.

  
Frank blinked swiftly.

  
Ryan nodded. "Enjoy your stay, I'll tell the maid you have a guest."

  
"My name's Frank, just so you know." Frank offered.

  
Ryan nodded, only now properly allowing himself to look at the boy, who was wearing skinny jeans, knee high boots and no shirt, only an oversized shabby fur coat. Weird.

  
"I like your coat." Ryan commented before running off. He scampered up another set of stairs to the far left of the room that Frank had not spotted before. He concluded that's where the maid stayed. It seemed nicer than his apartment with Mikey.

  
"That's Ryan," Gerard commented. "A descendant of a close friend, chef, potion maker, he also dabbles in witchcraft, and I guess you could say, friend. He's a nervous thing. I suppose he has the right after the hell he's lived through. He takes bunk up the stairs, the maid lives where he just ran off to." Gerard didn't seem to be bridled by the notion of oversharing.

  
He probably didn't have to because he could easily rip Franks throat out and roast it over a spit in one of the probably twenty fireplaces in this place.

  
"He seems harmless." Frank said, managing to keep a cool composure while internally screaming about how he just now learned witchcraft was an actual thing that people actually did and how Gerard had a maid on top of it all. Frank should not be surprised consider on the size of the estate.

  
He should've known witchcraft was a thing, a vampire was standing right beside him after all. That only left the question, are werewolves a thing too? Frank sure hoped so.

  
"So would you like the tour of the house first or dinner?" Gerard asked flatly.

  
Before Frank could answer, his stomach rumbled, all he'd eaten today was coffee, which he technically had drank.

  
"That answers that." He said before leading Frank to the right.

  
"Here I have a more- average rooms. Sometimes a more exuberant life gets tedious. I've got two normal rooms; the kitchen and dining room." Gerard explained. "I like to go back to my roots."

  
Frank nodded, that was understandable. "Uh, since I'm a guest can we eat in the fancy place." Frank asked, he was grateful for dinner but he would be insane to not try and at least grasp the opportunity, when presented, to eat in the most expensive dining room in the city.

  
Gerard smiled. "Sure thing, but I need to cook up here. I dare not even think to cook in Ryan's kitchen. I'd end up spilling a potion that turns you into a frog. Then where'd we be? Slimy, that's where. You wouldn't believe how similar deadly things look compared to the edible food." Frank was going to get whiplash from the swift changes of ancient language to the more current 'lingo'.

  
Frank nodded though, as if he had the slightest idea as to what poisonous herb may look like a turnip in this foreboding kitchen.

  
Gerard guided Frank up the stairs. As expected upstairs was just as lavishly decorated as the lower floor, there was a long corridor that Gerard led them down. It was lined with broad doors of alternating distance, ornate with white pillars contrasting with the sleek colorful paint splattered haphazardly on the walls. It was all very artistic.

  
After passing only five doors, whose contents were left unknown they arrived at a door a polished white door with silver handles.

  
Gerard pushed the door open to reveal a relatively normal kitchen.

  
Well if relatively normal kitchen looked like it had been lifted straight from a showroom featured on the cooking channel. The spotlessly clean room glistening as Gerard flicked on the light. Frank gasped, that this was Gerard's idea of normal?

  
"Maybe I hyped up its normalcy a little too much." Gerard said airily.

  
Frank felt a pang of jealousy, the riches in Gerard's possession were beyond anything Frank could ever even imagine. This was a real Prince and The Pauper storyline. Frank still wouldn't hold it against the man if he chopped Frank up and cooked him for dinner instead, he had willingly gone into a sketchy strangers house. What was wrong with him?

  
Gerard set the bags down on the island in the middle of the room. "What the fuck is your job?" Asked Frank, no one with a normal 9 to 5 could afford all of this. There had to be some sort of foul play.

  
Gerard laughed for a moment, "You'll find that out over dinner. As I said, I want to know more about you."

  
Frank shuddered. He really was under the impression that Gerard just threw around his money. For good reasons, if Frank were that rich he would do the exact same thing.

  
"You've heard my story. It's boring. There is nothing there. You're what? A thousand; much more interesting." Frank prodded.

  
Gerard had a smirk, Frank couldn't tell if he wanted to slap Gerard when he had that smirk or if he wanted Gerard to smack him. More specifically- his ass. Even more specifically when they were- Frank was getting sidetracked.

  
"I'm not that old, way to make me self conscious. Haven't you heard, you don't ask an immortal their age!" He teased. "How's this, every few things I find out about you I'll tell you something about me in return?" Gerard proposed as he turned on the stove and filled a saucepan with boiling water.

  
"I'm not one for gambling but I'm already screwed." Frank agreed. "You're a vampire right, though? You literally don't age, don't feel self conscious." He argued in addition.

  
"I could be alive a million years and I'd still feel self conscious- it's a me thing. Stop trying to change the subject." Gerard replied, slight annoyance in the tone of his last few words. He threw pasta into the saucepan, more aggressively than needed.

  
Frank sighed. He shuffled over to the wooden stools at the island counter. He struggled to seat himself in the 'high' chairs. "Fine. Ask me something, what do you want to know?"

  
Gerard thought for a moment as he took out milk and butter from the state of the art fridge. "Enlighten me on the coat." Gerard said finally, opening the greasy wrapper on the butter.

  
Frank could remember the day clearly, it was forever embedded in his memory for various reasons. He could never really tell if it was a good or bad thing.

  
It was Frank's first month in the city, back in his very innocent younger days. He was naive and he had severely underestimated how difficult it would be to live here. He was working as a hot dog vendor, earning barely more than $5. 50 an hour, which was very little considering the amount he was selling. The corporation did the thing where all earned money was pooled and then redistributed to the other needy and oily teenagers looking for money to buy a video game or something- not survive.

 

He didn't have a house, or an apartment or any other decent living conditions, he mainly slept in an abandoned building he'd found, thankfully it was warm as well built. Frank had a couple of blankets so he was surviving, but barely. He carried what little things he'd managed to get in a rucksack that he brought everywhere with him.

  
He couldn't eat from the hot dog stand because he was vegetarian for moral reasons and because he was such a good guy he hadn't had a hot meal since he'd left home.

  
Frank had been about to give up and return to the parents who had kicked him out because of his sexuality. That was why they had moved from Italy in the first place. A new start where they would be a normal family. Those European stereotypes don't apply to Frank's family apparently.

  
About to return to New Jersey- until Frank had a genius idea while walking 'home' he spotted a tall girl at the side of the street. Her knee high boots were glossy, her fishnets ripped, her sky colored bra a little stained and a pale fur coat that reached her thighs.

  
She was standing, hip cocked and sucking the life out of a cigarette, Frank had been here long enough to recognise her as a prostitute when the idea came.

  
He could do exactly what she did for money, sure there would be less customers but there were less male hookers. He could charge more than her, perhaps he could ask her for advise, would a hooker mind? Frank knew nothing about the life, and he would face the consequences.

  
He would get beaten up, cheated out of his money and a hell of a lot more before he settled into the groove.

  
Frank decided he may as well try and ask her, walking over in his battered runners. "Excuse me." He asked softly, the hooker lazily turned her head. Her matted hair fell into her face, half of it was dyed black and the other half was pastel pink. It couldn't be healthy for your hair. She hadn't spotted Frank walking over, she was surprised to see him beside her.

  
"You're not the usual type but alright, what'll it be?" She asked as though she was offering him something sweet. In her mind she was.

  
"No-no god I don't want that." Frank spoke quickly. "I want uh, advise."

  
The hooker had a throaty laugh. "I'm not exactly a role model, kid. What'cha want?"

  
"You make money and well, I need money, so I need to do something like this I guess." He gestured quickly, managing not to fumble over any words.

  
She snorted and looked at him incredulously. There was a smudged ring of eyeliner rimming her dull eyes, she didn't look happy. "I haven't met a dude prostitute in ages, you'll get business. You'll get a pimp no problem, gay dudes 'round usually don't have trouble getting laid but with you 'round they won't be able to resist forking out." She explained.

  
"How'd you know I was gay?" Asked Frank, surprised at her observation.

  
The girl threw back her head again in that same deep throaty laughter. "You're too obvious, you haven't been staring at my tits this whole time." She stated.

  
"Oh." Frank mumbled.

  
"Not a bad thing, now that I've taken a liking to you, do you wanna come over to my squat, I'd love to help you once I get out of this." She said gesturing to her outfit. "It'd be nice to put some more use to my life aside from a quick fuck."

  
She saw the apprehensive look in Franks eye. "I'm not gonna rape ya, there'll be like five other girls there. You'll be fine."

  
Frank nodded slowly.

  
"Oh, what do they call you short stuff?" She asked slinging her arm around Frank. Her cigarette dangled dangerously close to his ear.

  
"Frank Iero. You?" He asked, struggling to keep up with the girls long strides.

  
"Everyone calls me Mel." She informed him quickly. "First rule of the business, never reveal your true identity." Frank nodded. "It's alright around me- not gonna track you down or anything." She said distantly. "God these heels are killing me." She mumbled under her breath.

  
Mel walked and Frank stumbled forward. The two arrived at a crumbling apartment building that Frank was dragged into. He could hear her heels clicking against the warped tiles. She pulled him into an elevator. It stopped going up on the third floor. The doors opened though, they stayed open. She whisked him up four flights of stairs and then finally arrived at an old but well decently decorated the apartment.

  
"It's not much- it's better than living on the streets." She said fondly.

  
Frank looked down, embarrassed, he was illegally living in an abandoned house.

  
Mel took notice of the action "Oh shit, Frank, are you on the streets? Don't worry, I got a spare room, you just gotta pay like a third of the rent. I know how tough it is out there. Trust me." Frank was beginning to realize she was as sweet as frosting, a little too bubbly but that may be because she's high.

  
"No it's fine you don't have to do that." Frank replied. "I've got a kinda place it's like an abandoned house. It's not too bad."

  
Mel didn't look impressed. She took a deep puff of her cigarette and dropped it to the hallway floor. She snuffed it out with her boot. "Look you get your stuff you can chill out here I don't mind. I just hope Hal won't mind too."

  
"Hal?" Frank asked.

  
"Oh, Halsey. Not her real name either. She's my roommate and I would say girlfriend but it's not great when both of us are in 'the business' and argue constantly." Mel explained.

  
"Ah." Frank replied, the two obviously didn't have a very healthy relationship but who was he to comment. He'd never even been in a real relationship. He wasn't about to get on Mel's bad side once she'd offered him a place to stay.

  
"So do you want to get your stuff now or after I've taught you the hookers tips and tricks?" Asked Mel giggling at her joke, throwing herself onto the slightly sunken pale pink sofa that matched her hair.

  
Frank, more gently, sat down beside her. "I've got all my stuff in my bag so teach me the tips."

  
Mel stared at the lumpy bag. "That ain't much. So let's start getting you your money."

  
Frank was grateful she didn't offer to get him essentials, he didn't want to owe her anymore than he already did.

  
Mel went through everything, she had to change some details slightly because Frank didn't have the same anatomy.

  
After a while they established that Frank was a definitely bottom, his twink appearance would help as guys were apparently into that. She gave him advise on blowjobs, handjobs and everything inbetween. He wouldn't be good at first, it would be disgusting and messy but that was expected.

  
Frank no longer felt as innocent as he once was. She also informed him in her experience most guys were vanilla but there was the occasional exception. And with that exception the were usually borderline insane- so stick with vanilla. Frank wasn't sure how to feel about that.

  
Mel had been about to wrap up the lesson when a girl, Franks height, with mid length blue hair. She had even less on then Mel, a thin black bralette and acid washed shorts that hung loosely on her hips.

  
"Mel, who the fucks this? We agreed not to bring customers back here, it's dangerous." She spat accusing very quickly.

  
"Hal, it's just a friend, Frank he's gunna help pay rent and stay in the spare room, you can calm yourself." Mel said sharply.

  
"You got a roommate without telling me?" Hal asked taking a step forward.

  
"He was on the street, he needed somewhere, you remember what it was like out there, don't you?" Mel stood up to. She was surprisingly fierce.

  
Hal sighed, defeated immedietly. "He has two months at most. By then he'll have enough to rent his own place."

  
"Thank you, Hal." Mel smiled, Frank beamed too.

  
"I'm gunna get cleaned up, I'll be out later." Hal said stalking out of the room.

  
Mel smiled at Frank. She had a gap in her two front teeth, in Franks opinion it made her even more attractive. "She can never resist the eyes." Mel said pointed her thin finger at her large eyes, pouting.

  
Frank nodded. "So uh, should we get me a customer?" He asked hesitantly.

  
"Ya, come on, better start now and earn you something." Mel said. "But you can't go out like that."

  
"What do I wear then? I haven't got much more than this." Frank asked, he could feel his stomach go into knots, he didn't have sex much and it had always been with a temporary boyfriend, never a complete stranger but desperate times turned to desperate measures. Frank was sure he was ready.

  
"You gotta go shirtless, I'll see what jeans I got around here." She said, bouncing off to where Hal had went, she was a lot more hippy than Frank.

  
She emerged a few minutes later with a pair of black skinny jeans, eyeliner and black heels.

  
"Ever worn heels before?" She asked grinning and dangling them on a finger.

  
Frank had, he'd wore them as a dare and surprisingly managed to walk well in them, he nodded.

  
"Good now go throw 'em on." Mel said, shoving them into his hands and pushing him into the only other room.

  
There was a wrought iron bedframe resting against the unpainted wall and a thin mattress layed on the floor. A mirror stood in the far corner. Other then that the room was bare, aside from a box in the corner of the room.

  
Frank pulled on the clothes, he had to admit the heels and skin tight jeans were a good look, his legs looked amazing. His few tattoos contrasted intensely against his sallow skin, they had amassed over the years. Most when he actually had a home.

  
He came out and struck a ridiculous pose, Mel gasped and then squealed. "Omigod, perfect, you look amazing. One more thing."

  
Frank cocked his head. She revealed a black pencil. Frank eyes widened, he'd worn heels but eyeliner was a whole new thing.

  
Mel smiled mischievously. "When you were getting ready I made a few calls. You have a customer, nothing more than a blowjob, it's like a warm up, you'll get twenty dollars. As you get better you can charge more." She motioned for Frank to step forward as she popped off the cap of the pencil.

  
Franks eyes watered and twitched but after only a moment Mel was satisfied with her work. "Hot."

  
Frank was slightly overwhelmed. "Is it far?" He asked.

  
"Nope." She poppe her p like the makeup cap. "'S just around the corner, I'll walk you but you'll have to get back yourself, I got my own customers to attend to." She said.

  
"Dot be nervous, you'll get used to it soon. It gets super easy." Mel said, Frank wasn't sure if he wanted to get used to it or not.

  
"Right, so off we go." Mel proclaimed. Her and Frank left and after the long descent back to ground level and a few minutes of walking they arrived at a gross little motel.

  
"Well, he'll meet you in there, have fun, I'll see you at the apartment." She said, handing him a set of keys she had brandished from thin air. "Those're mine, lose 'em and I'll kick you in the throat."

  
"Thank you so much." Frank said.

  
"Know before you enter the apartment agian. Me and Hal might make up-" She snickered but pulled Frank in for a quick hug before he rather miserably walked off.

  
Frank got to the room, as instructed and was immediately greeted by a man in his mid thirties. "You Sugar?" He asked deeply. He wasn't hideous, that was something.

  
Frank nodded, assuming this was the code name Mel had picked for him. "Come on then, I ain't got long." Tha man said, dragging Frank into the room.

  
It was a nasty hole in the wall and looked barely passable as a habitable area. There were cigarette holes visibally burned into the comforter and countless stains on the wall.

  
The man roughly pushed Frank to his knees. "I believe you know what to do." The man was sitting on the bed, hands limp at his sides.

  
Frank swallowed, nervous, he unzipped the man's jeans and got to work.

 

Before he finished the man had the decency to warn him and present him with a tissue before zipping up and throwing a twenty down to Frank.

  
The man left before Frank could even stand.

  
Frank was shivering, he couldn't believe he'd just done that. His mouth felt disgusting. He looked at the twenty beside him, he shoved it in the pocket of one of his jeans and left the building, barely remembering how to get back to the apartment.

  
Frank was walking along quietly, contemplating his life decisions when he passed a thrift shop. It was chilly outside, as if agreeing with him a gust of wind blew against Franks bareback, raising the hair on his arms and neck.

  
"No one wants it, we might as well throw it out, it's been on the sale rack for a year." He heard a woman say, Frank wasn't sure why but he wanted to see what it was. Curiosity got the better of him, peering in through the dirty window.

Two women were arguing, one brandishing a ratty fur coat, Frank watched.

  
"Fine just put it in the trash outside then. It's only collecting moths." The other woman sighed.

  
Frank hid in crevice between the buildings not wanting to get yelled at for loitering. He watched the lady place the coat in the garbage, as soon as she left Frank trotted over in his heels. He fished it out, the bin had thankfully had just been emptied so it didn't have any gross shit on it. There was a hair curling stench to it and that could be fixed with enough washing.

  
Frank flung it on himself, it felt good, the faux fur was matted he strutted along, the fur coat flowing behind him. He felt like a queen. How was a shabby peice of not-a-dead-animal so empowering?

  
He managed to get home without further incident. He tapped on the door, unlocking it when he got a muffled 'come in' Hal sat on the sofa, she looked tired.

  
"How'd it go?" She asked, without looking up.

  
"It was something." He said, walking around the couch.

  
"Where'd you get the coat?" Asked Hal.

  
"The literal trash."

 

Frank explained this story, in less detail but Gerard got the idea. He seemed amused and concerned, asking about his living on the streets next. Then more questioning about his time with Hal and Mel. They had all grown very close, Frank ended up staying with them for a year.

  
Gerard had finished the pasta. "When we go down you can ask me two questions. That was quite the story." He said, serving it on two ornate plates with silver cutlery.

  
The two walked down the large stairs to the dining room. Gerard directed Frank to it and got him to open the crystalline door for them.

  
Franks eyes popped out of his head and rolled across the floor. A dark oak table surrounded with chairs that had blue cushions and tiny golden designs embedded into the embroidery was set in the center of the of room on a matching rug.

  
There were large paintings everywhere, some of children, some buildings and some of landscapes but all extraordinary and realisticly breathe taking.

  
Gerard sat the two plates downs. "Your turn to ask two questions." He said, pulling out two chairs for them to sit down, Frank was still staring at the intimidating room but sat down. Once sitting the room warmed up, the paintings were vibrant and welcoming.

  
Frank was thoughtful. "How'd you know I was vegetarian and Italian, you can't read minds, can you?" He asked afraid ofte answer.

  
Gerard snorted. "If only. I can smell your heritage. Your blood, yes how creepy, I've been all over the place. I've attained the ability to match scents to cultures- yours is pretty Italian."

  
Frank was intrigued, wishing Gerard would respond with something more, despite his answer being satisfactory.

  
"Next question." Gerard prompted.

  
"I gave you an entire story I just get a rather blunt oh I smell blood." Frank protested nearly throwing some pasta from his fork but managing to reclaim it and shove it in his mouth.

  
Gerard only smirked and Frank sighed.

  
"Yes, well, where are you from? These pictures aren't from around here and you don't sound American. You have like twenty accents when you talk."

  
"I know. I slip sometimes. I'm originally Russian." Gerard said. "My mother was Italian but my father was Russian and loved his homeland. Too nationalistic if you ask me. Luckily he didn't support communism."

  
Frank got excited. "That's so cool, Russian is hard to learn. It's your first language?"

  
Gerard laughed. "Yep. It is indeed. That's how I have links across the big pond."

  
"Russia looks pretty. I'd like to see it sometime. That's not going to happen though..." Frank said analyzing the gorgeous paintings.

  
"It is, well when it's not covered under a comforter of snow, I love it, I'm trying to arrange to go over again soon." Gerard said. "But I'm a busy man."

  
"Busy with what?" Frank asked, curiously. He shoved around the pasta on his plate. It was very tasty.

  
"Already asked two questions," Gerard tsked shoving his own pile of spaghetti into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please make us aware of spelling/ grammar mistakes in the comments!! Thank you for reading too !!! <3


	4. some things never fade (tattoos and family)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sloOw progression.

Frank crossed his arms over his chest. "No fair." he grumbled.  
Gerard laughed at the childish action. "Sorry kid," he said complacently. "But that's how it is, my turn to ask."

 

Frank was more than a little reluctant but agreed to the arrangement.

"Tell me about a few of your tattoos, the halloween finger ones are snazzy considering your birthday, but tell me more." Gerard inquired.

 

Frank thought for a moment, deciding which one he wanted to expose first.

 

He ran his toungue across his teeth and lifted his hand to his bottom lip. He tugged it down to reveal a small, scrappy 'NJ'

 

Gerard raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. "Cool."

 

Frank let his lip go and settled a smug look on his face.

 

"So what does 'NJ' mean?"

 

"New Jersey motherfucker!" Frank said. "It's where I lived before."

 

"So why'd you get it tattooed on the inside of your mouth?"

 

"It reminds me of home you know? Someplace where I wasn't relying on myself- school, friends, family... that kind of stuff."

 

Gerard nodded solemnly. "I think that's nice."

 

Frank nodded and slipped out of his fur coat, exposing his torso. His skinny body showing, it wasn't in the best shape due to a lack of food and messed up sleep schedule. He showed the ink littering some of his skin

 

Gerard leaned in even closer to inspect them. "This one is also for Jersey, me and a few friends got matching ones." He explained pointing to one on his arm, Gerard held his arm, drinking in the ink injected into the skin years ago.

 

"And this is my pumpkin halloween one." Frank said proudly, turning around so Gerard could see the large tattoo on his back. Gerard traced the lines with his eyes. Frank shivered under his gaze.

 

"You're very tense." He whispered into Frank's ear.

 

"I am afraid you're going to eat me. I think." Frank laughed but the edge was still there.

 

"I could never kill someone as ethereal as you." Gerard replied softly, his hand rested in the air, hesitant to touch the tattoo on Franks back. "You're so thin, keep eating." Gerard said, pulling away rather abruptly.

 

Frank sighed, he had been enjoying the innocent (ish) closeness he hadn't been hugged since he lived with Mel and Hal.

 

"Don't pout, мышо́нок." Gerard cooed resting a hand on the table. "Eat, go on."

 

"What did you call me there?" Asked Frank, giving in and eating more of the pasta.

 

"It means little mouse in my native tongue." Gerard said as he too forked up some of the pasta.

 

"You like making fun of my height?" Frank asked playfully.

 

Gerard flashed Frank a gummy smile. "No I find it endearing in fact, adorable too, compact." He praised.

 

"Thank you." Frank said meekly, his head bowed over the plate.

 

"It is only the truth." Gerard clarified.

 

"How completely incompetent of me. I forgot to get us drinks." Gerard said suddenly. "Excuse me for a moment." Frank nodded.

 

Gerard stood up and smiled, quickly kissing Frank's cheek before he left the room. Oddly enough it didn't seem forward, it reminded Frank off the French greeting, la bise.

 

Frank flushed bright red bowing his head lower, it was all so sweet.

 

He stuffed another piece of pasta in his mouth before standing, he had wanted to inspect the room ever since he'd entered. Goosebumps remained, from the cold, so he replaced his coat back on his shoulders.

 

He walked to the front of the room where another table with an impressive array of cutlery, plates, spices and seasoning lay. The silver and gold was polished and twinkling up at him, the table itself was of fine oak, smaller than the main one but ornate all the same.

 

He walked along past it, dragging his hand over the smooth, silky wood, he was now standing far closer to the landscape of Russia that Gerard had seemed so fond of and Frank could see why.

 

There seemed to be thought in every carefully placed dot of the brush and the large castle and some amounts of cattle in the distance were detailed despite being a small and seeming unnecessary part of it, Frank noticed the small signature in the corner, definitely not an English name, the characters unrecognizable.

 

Frank looked to the other end of the room, the end he had been facing away from and noticed a painting he hadn't before.

 

It was a large painting, with the corner singed, of a family with two small children, a strong man, who resembled Gerard only with far more worn and masculine features. He was smiling, he had his raven hair cut into a styled look and stood at the back, holding hands with a busty woman.

 

The smiling woman beside him looked so full of life, olive skin, brown hair and big brown eyes, an upturned nose. She wore a long dark blue dress on capturing her curves in the fabric, her eyebrows sloped to frame her face and plump lips that surrounded her pearly white teeth. She looked otherworldly like Gerard.

 

Below them, as they were significantly smaller, were two boys. The taller of the two must have been a younger Gerard, he stood trying to puff out his chest to appear more like his father. His father's hand lay on his shoulder firmly. The other smaller boy, who Frank assumed was his brother, was smiling daintily, his mothers hand on his shoulder.

 

Gerard was a little thicker than the smaller boy who seemed wiry but the two looked to be closely related.

 

Looking closer at the other boy, it was uncanny how he'd looked familiar. The light brown hair had especially reminded him of Mikey.

 

Maybe Mikey was some distant descendant, how cool would that be.

 

Frank had been too absorbed by the painting to hear Gerard walk in, but instead of disturbing the boy Gerard watched his fascinated features look at the painting.

 

"Mouse." Gerard interrupted, making Frank jump, he chuckled at the boys reaction. "That's my family."

 

Frank nodded, looking threatened. "I was just looking around, I hope you don't mind."

 

Gerard shook his head. "Being curious is natural. Come back an sit, before it gets cold, I brought the wine."

 

Frank nodded and walked back over to his abandoned plate.

 

Gerard started to work on opening the bottle and it soon hissed with a loud popping noise, the cork flying off to the other corner of the room.

 

Gerard filled his glass with the dark red liquid, Frank looked at it sceptically, Gerard spotted the look. "Don't worry, I wouldn't feed you blood, it's ordinary wine, see?" He said, showing Frank the label.

 

"1943." Frank read. "That's fucking mature."

 

Gerard snorted. "The older the wine is the better. It should probably breathe for a little while..." He said.

 

Frank focused on the rich looking liquid, he could smell the aroma from his seat.

 

"So that's you as a kid?" Frank asked, refering to the large painting behind him peeling his eyes from the entrancing, dark liquid.

 

Gerard smiled and nodded. "Yep. my familys around me, my brother, Micheal was always a mommas boy." Gerard's eyes crinkled into a smile. "He used to always insist on standing next to her for paintings back then." He laughed.

 

Frank laughed too, the younger Gerard was smiling so broadly and seemed to be watching his brother out of the corner of his eye. "Did you two get along well?" He asked.

 

Gerard nodded. "The wellest. He was my best friend, always had to make sure he wasn't being annoyed at school. Yeah, we got along great."

 

Frank felt warmed, he was glad Gerard wasn't the asshole he came off to be. "I don't have any siblings, that I know of anyway."

 

Gerard looked confused. "Why would that be?" He asked.

 

"Oh uh I got kicked out when I was still a teenager. It's why I'm living out here. I don't know if they've replaced me yet or if they'll even bother." Frank said rather quickly, rubbing his neck and quickly reaching for the wine.

 

"I'm sorry, parents can be so cruel to their offspring. Fortunately mine encouraged my artistic side." Gerard recalled.

Frank breathed out out. "This is so good. It tastes like... oak?" He mused. "Artistic side? They knew you were queer or did you paint?" Frank quipped. It hadn't occurred to him that this vampire may have some soft hobby.

 

He simply nodded. "Not that I was a gay, but yeah things like painting and such. I almost forgot about our arrangement! Do you have any hobbies of your own?" Gerard raise his own glass up to his lips.

 

Frank thought for a moment, he didn't have much time for things like that anymore. "I used to love guitar but I haven't played in years, I used to read too but I guess I don't have time anymore.

 

"It's a shame about the guitar, I'd love to hear that." Gerard said.

 

"I'd be pretty rusty, I haven't even held one since I was eighteen." Frank lamented.

 

"I could totally arrange something, don't worry." Gerard said casually, Frank's eyes widened, he could only imagine what he meant by that.

 

"Are you done eating?" Gerard asked neither plates had been touched for quite a while. Gerard walked over to a phone type machine and typed something in. He picked it up. "Hello?Yes. Andrea could you come to the dining room I have a few dishes for you, here." There was a mumbled reply and then Gerard set down the receiver.

 

"Do you want to stay the night? It's very late." Gerard asked, looking over to Frank, he nodded immediately.

 

Frank decided he was good, his life was complete and it wasn't really going anywhere at the moment. He was in a particularly nihilistic mindset, so why the fuck not.

 

"Do you want a room arranged or would you like to stay in my room. I've got one of those futon things. It's more comfortable than my bed." Gerard rambled.

 

"I-I'll stay with you." Frank stuttered quickly, strangely wanting to be around a vampire and the aura of his character.

 

"Well then that's that, little mouse." Gerard said, walking over and kissing the top of Frank's head.

 

Moment's later a small woman walked in, her hair was dark and unruly. She had it pulled back into a bum. She was wearing black jeans and a fitted white shirt.

 

"Do you want me to put it in the wine in the cellar, Mister Way?" She asked.

 

Gerard shook his head. "I think we'll enjoy it a bit longer. Thanks."

 

"Of course Mister Way." She complied amenably, gathering plates. She busied herself with wiping down the table.

 

"Please don't call me Mister. Except for around anyone here on official business. You know, all that jazz." Gerard said offhandedly. Frank imagined if a maid referred to Gerard by his first name in front of some big mafia boss from Russia, the boss would not approve.

 

Andrea raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?" She inquired.

 

Gerard nodded. "Too formal. Much too formal."

 

Andrea sighed. "Thank god, it made me feel like I'm talking to my professor." She chuckled. "Is this the boy Ryan told me about, what was it Frank?"

 

"Yes, that's it." Frank extended a hand, unsure of what else to do. Andrea smiled and shook it happily. "Nice to meet you and your aforementioned furs."

 

Frank smiled back, visibly more relaxed. "Nice to meet you too."

 

Gerard coughed, redrawing attention to himself. "Frank will stay the night, don't prepare a spare room. Just brim an extra set of sheets into my room. ell Ryan we've got an extra for breakfast tomorrow."

 

Andrea nodded. "Will do." The said before marching off with the plates and cutlery.

 

"Shall we?" Frank insinuated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Please let us now if we made any grammatical or spelling errors!


End file.
